To Visit a Lost Love

Legends and spirits. All too common in the myths of our minds. Every town has them, every family has them, I did not believe, I was much too practical. But curiosity flourishes in the most common sense places, and I knew what I had to do. Something drew me there, looking back now I wonder if it was fate, my fate to see and remember. In this way they would live on. For no fate is worse than being forgotten,

They told me to stay away. But I did not listen, something drew me there. I had heard the stories, I knew the legends, but I didn't believe, not until I saw it for myself. How I ever managed to drag my best friend Emma to come with me I will never know. I guess it was the lure of excitement, the unknown factor that would bring excitement to our drab, dull lives. And the hubris of the young. We were 16 then, what did we know of the spirit world? What could possibly be there that could not be explained scientifically? Even after all these years have passed, we don't talk about it. Emma refuses to believe it was anything other than a dream.

I on the other hand know it was real, and that night has haunted my dreams since. But not in ways that frighten or offend. It enhanced my views of the world we live in, and the other world waiting for us, where others have gone before.

Armed with flashlights, a cooler of snacks, and courage only the young and naive could muster, we made our way to Breezy Hill Cemetary. It was late into Autumn, and the nights were cool, and dark. We decided to make our little camp along the Western wall, where the oldest graves were. We settled in, hoping we would see something, and hoping we would not. We sat silently, somehow not wanting to break the silence with small talk. Almost afraid of disturbing the spirits resting nearby.

We settled in, quietly waiting for something to happen. Time slowed and crept toward some distant occurance I knew was coming, I hoped I would have the courage to face whatever happened. But knowing I had to stay and see what was coming.

Midnight came, the hands of my watch illuminating the witching hour. I began to get sleepy, and noticed Emma dozing off. My eyes grew heavy and my breath shallow and even, I was just falling into the deep recesses of sleep when I heard rustling. It was a strange otherworldly sound, I woke with a start, my heart pounding, and sweat starting to form on the back of my neck in spite of the cool air. I rubbed my eyes when I saw it, unable to process what was happening, a dark form slowly taking shape, walking amongst the tombstones. I was paralyzed, wanting desperately to wake Emma, but unable to move. The shape was forming into a man, tall, cloaked in black, and menacing. Did he see us? I couldn't tell, but I sure could see him. He stopped at a gravestone, and stood silently, could spirits make sounds? At this time I noticed Emma was awake, her eyes wide with fear, and disbelief, seeing what I was seeing. We caught each others eyes, then turned as one toward the spirit. He just stood there, silently and still as the night around him.. Then he spoke, " How could you leave me? You knew I would be back, how could you take yourself away?" It came out softly and sadly. I could see the spirits' shoulders shaking, as if crying and sobbing from some deep recess of his soul. To say he was tortured, would be an understatement. It was the saddest moment I had ever witnessed. He stood there, his sadness enveloping him like a cloak, for what seemed to be hours, but was only minutes. It got quiet again, the silence surrounding us all. Then he turned and disappeared into the mist. The dark shadows swallowed him as quietly as he appeared.

Emma and I sat for a few minutes more, got up quietly and left. We didn't speak,for what was there to say?

The next morning I went back to the cemetary, and looked at the stone the spirit spoke to. It was etched with an Angel, and the words, my beloved Abigail, taken too soon by her own hand, always loved, never forgotten. 1790-1813. The spirit haunted my thoughts, and I knew I had to learn more about him and Abigail. What happened in their time? Did Abigail take her own life? Why would she if she was so loved?

The historical society helped me find out the grave belonged to Abigail Marie Seelander, a 23 year old who threw herself off of a cliff into the sea, after fearing her fiancee was dead. He was a sea Captain who lost his ship in the Islands, and was wrongly believed to have perished.

Abigails parents arranged a marriage for her, but she could not go through with it. She would marry no one but her one true love. It took the Captain one year to return, only to find his love gone, and his heart shattered. He lived 70 more years, never marrying, his heart never healed from losing his true love. He regularly visited the grave of Abigail lamenting his lost love. His death could not stop the visits.

I visited the graveyard one dusky evening, after a storm. I laid flowers at the grave of Abigail, praying for her to know she was not forgotten. I caught a fleeting glimpse of a young woman walking arm in arm with a tall, handsome man, they were smiling at each, pausing long enough to give me a smile and a small wave, I smiled and then they quietly vanished. I said a heartfelt prayer and left the cemetary,

Years have passed, I am now older, wiser, perhaps, but the story of Abigail and her lost love always stays with me. Love is truly eternal.